The Sloth Monologues
by The Water Daemon
Summary: Below the surface, a relationship between two supposed enemies is quite different then seen by the public eye. Epilogue posted 5/19/02. COMPLETE.
1. Nothing Gold Can Stay

Author's Note: Hello! ^_^ And thank you for having taken the time to at least check out this sentence. ^^;; This is my second time writing a Neopets fic, but believe it or not, the last was crappier than this one, if that is humanly possible. :/ Just as a quick disclaimer, Neopets does NOT belong to me, nor do any of the poems preceding the chapters belong to me. They belong to the amazing poet who is Robert Frost, and I am borrowing them without permission because I am not making ANY profit off of this. (People don't pay for crappy fiction.)  
  
  
  
Nature's first green is gold,  
  
Her hardest hue to hold.  
  
Her early leaf's a flower,  
  
But only so an hour.  
  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
  
So Eden sank to grief,  
  
So dawn goes down to day,  
  
Nothing gold can stay.  
  
-"Nothing Gold Can Stay" Robert Frost  
  
Dear Reader:  
  
If you have found this, floating through space within a metal capsule, you are most likely some kind of intergalactic species (most likely not a human, for their ships are laughably primitive, but the reader will be addressed such as, for there are so many of those vermin throughout the universe) or some kind of Alien Aisha, who will undoubtedly find this tale completely ludicrous, even in its utter sincerity. This is the whole and utter truth of my history, said from the hand of a wrongly, yet perhaps valid, criminal.  
  
  
  
Let me say this first and foremost: I am not evil.  
  
All too often, people and Neopets alike jump to conclusions, make assumptions about people and things that they hardly know, have no knowledge of its past. Immediately, they give them a classification, a label for them to wear like a horrible badge, marking them eternally. Burned into mind, burned into flesh. Neopets in particular have a terrible habit of seeing things in black and white, good and evil, friend or enemy. Oblivious they are to the fact that everything comes in shades of gray—and, on the rare occasion, multi-color.  
  
I believe a young adolescent by the name of Anne Frank once said, "Despite everything, I still believe people are truly good at heart." The quote is full of the typical naiveté of a child—yet it still holds a great deal of truth in it. There has never been something born, created or otherwise brought to life that was completely black with hatred, with bad intentions. Instead, there is always a shred of light, no matter how muffled and muted by an utter vacuum of ebony, expressing the soul of a horribly lost person. Light is weak—it must be protected by darkness.  
  
But no, I am not quite that bad. There is method to my madness, reason behind every action that I take. Diabolical, I may seem, but that is to the uneducated mind. You do not know me, not really—the immortal in the black cape is not who he seems. Through and through, my intentions are, perhaps, selfish—but not gluttonous for money, striving for destruction. I only desire companionship, and my quest has taken me far.  
  
Too far, though? Why would someone try and mutate a population or destroy a civilization just to have someone, just one sole person? You may say this. But then, you have proved yourself inhuman, incapable of true feelings. Apathy plagues me, but I still have desire, still long to hold someone in my arms, arms that have been horribly empty. The emptiness has chewed away at my soul, making me darker, but never black—water may erode a canyon, but never completely gets rid of all land. Have you never felt love? Have you never felt a burning desire deep within you, urging you on like a horse being flogged by his master, thinking just a little further and they will share it too, they will want me as well? The constant words, repeating over and over in my head: if only, if only.  
  
Their repetition is more than ever now.  
  
But I have said that you do not know me—you do not know my past. Present and future are unnecessary. They mean nothing in the complete process—they are the things yet to be built, yet to be decided. There has been accounts on me but they are unfinished—they begin when I am already fully grown, and are at times inaccurate. Where are the younger years? Where is the adolescence? Did I just appear out of nowhere, a messiah of evil? No. I may be immortal, but I was born.  
  
Yes, born, like a Neopet, like a human child. I do not know who birthed me—I just must say I have hated them ever since. I know WHAT they were—they were Faeries, similar to the Queen faerie, the Earth faerie…you know them all. What right did they have birthing such a hideous creature? That was what all the others wanted to know. I did not bear the resemblance of any of the faeries. I suppose my parents ran away because they were ashamed of themselves; all I know is that I never knew genuine parental love, that given to all others.  
  
It was Faerieland I lived in. Neopia was still a mutated, horrible place—not suitable for any life form. Faerieland, however, high above in the clouds, was protected from the poisonous vapors, the sludge that could devour a person alive. The faeries, the only inhabitants, kept themselves busy with tedious tasks—and myself? I was taken in by an adoption agency, if you could really call it that? Of course, all of the other faerie children were completely normal, quite clearly faeries, happy and bouncing off the walls, casting spells here and there. They were quite cheerful and friendly—if you didn't happen to be horribly mutated and totally unrecognizable as a faerie.  
  
I remember particularly the ostracizing, the cruel looks they sent in my direction and the snickers that sent jolts through my fragile soul. Kindergarten, first grade—it didn't matter. I didn't show any signs of changing. I wasn't merely an ugly duckling waiting to transform into a beautiful swan—I was a genetically corrupt…THING that nobody wanted a part of, or even to share space with. I had wings back then, I recall, and they were the only thing I could truly enjoy—flying was the only thing I took any pleasure in. And even then I was beaten quite quickly. Faerie wings aren't suited for a heavier, thick-boned form, and I rapidly found myself unable to fly as I grew older, wings becoming just another part of my grotesque exterior, another reason for passerby faeries to cringe at the mutant.  
  
I was unbearably lonely. I was still quite vulnerable back then—soft spoken, just trying to get people to stop noticing me, although they invariably did. I hunched over, tried to make myself disappear from sight. But I stuck out like a sore thumb, a fly in their ointment of beauty, of perfection. I had not begun to hate—yet. That would be learned later on, a black death seeping into the tender fabrics of my spirit.  
  
And then…she came.  
  
I don't know how to describe her well enough. I suppose she must have been an outcast as well, although not as intensely as myself. She still had the marks of a faerie after all, not a completely revoltingly new shape. But she was different—not the run of the mill elemental faerie that came in and out of my life every day, each with a contorted stare on their faces, turning them away quickly and then muttering something to themselves. Her hair was the night sky, speckled with the infinite stars—her body an enigma, slowly transforming into nothing at the bottom. With an eerie grace, she floated about the clouds, dressed unlike all the others, but with her own certain flair. Not a conformist at any rate, I admired her ability to accept herself, even though I found it hard to believe that anyone couldn't accept her. It wasn't just her stunning beauty that made her so remarkable—it was the inner beauty, the way she made me feel as if I was valuable, as if I were worth something. Never before had such a feeling filled me.  
  
I was speechless when I first saw her. Speechless from her exquisite exterior, speechless that anyone would even dare venture near me. Most faeries seemed to be convinced I was diseased, and if they approached me, they would catch this horrible mutation and lose their beauty. What is magnificence worth when one's soul is corroded in such a way? Her first words were quiet and peaceful, without any bitterness or cruelty. A voice that was so foreign to me I wondered if there was a God at that moment, and she had come down to me in this form of brilliance.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
My name? Oh yes, I had a name. But nobody had ever asked for it before. I stood, wide eyed, gaping. She smiled slightly, cocking her head to the side. Her starlit hair swept in front of her face, covering one of her crimson eyes. The one thing we had in common, regarding appearances.  
  
"You do have a name, don't you?"  
  
Yes, I had a name. I stumbled for it. It felt as if I had lost it a while back from the sheer lack of faeries asking for it. My parents had not bothered to name me—the adoption agency had chosen a name for me. It wasn't one of those elegant names that most faeries possessed. Things like Buttercup, Wildflower, Crystalline…extravagant names were for normal faeries. My name was rough, hard on the tongue, with sharp pronunciation. As ugly and uncommonly terrible as myself.  
  
"Frank."  
  
How I wished I had a different name, something typical, common, so I wouldn't come off as more of a freak then I already was. It was too late—the damage was done. But any turn off by the mention of my name was not apparent on her facial features. She introduced herself as well, with no hesitation between my admittance of my name.  
  
"You can call me the Space Faerie."  
  
Beyond that, she did not have a name. I would get up the courage to ask her on some later occasion, and she would answer me by replying that she had never known any other name than just 'Space Faerie.'  
  
To say that we were an inseparable duo would be completely incorrect. My times with her were brief—she lived quite a distance from where I resided. According to her, she lived in the skies, away from Faerieland. Why she had descended initially, I never found out. Perhaps relatives to see? Her reasons were never extremely lucid. All I knew was that I longed for her visits. I only lived to see her face one more time, to hear her oddly soothing voice, the gentle brush of her delicate skin. She was resilient yet fragile at the same time. A weapon crafted of glass.  
  
And slowly, it was no longer just looking for companionship, for someone merely to talk to. My eyes were open, though with no rapidness, to a sexual attraction, a curious passion. Faeries are spiritual creatures—rarely do they find love in each other, find comfort and solace. Their comfort is their element—yet I had none to dissolve myself into. I suppose you could say I was the first remnant of a human anywhere near Neopia. Humans specifically feel this way—it finds its way into Neopets as well, though not as instinctual. They breed to continue their numbers—humans breed because of sheer yearning for another.  
  
Unfortunately, this makes humans vulnerable, able to be injured internally and emotionally in a much easier fashion. And these wounds inflicted by someone close, tearing open the delicate flesh of one's emotional skin, cannot be healed merely by words. And when they are sealed up, the scar remains, a painful reminder of an ill-fated time.  
  
Friendship, however, was clearly transforming to something more. I was never sure whether she shared the feelings or not—all I knew was that there became a frequent times when I found myself just gazing at her as she talked, unable to focus on her words. Everything about her attracted me. Her personality was so open, willing to accept anyone and anything. Just the thought of her face still arouses me, makes me tremble inside. The passion cannot be contained any longer…but at that time, I somehow managed to choke it down, to let it settle in my stomach. Letting it simmer, bubble. It was a seed, sprouting up from the ground and blossoming in my bosom.  
  
My hopes were greatly lifted when she invited me to live with her, up in the sky. I had always wondered what was past Faerieland, what the stars contained. A secret inkling inside of me was fantasized at the thought of all the places one could go, to claim land for their own. A greedy little voice, but so quiet as to be only an inaudible whisper at the time. I ignored it and joined her in the stars, escaping a world that had never truly cared for me, and to one that just possibly could.  
  
I was sorely misguided. And I paid for my mistake with my soul's entirety.  
  
We lived along just fine, with civilized conversations. It was almost unbearable being so close to her but not being able to admit to my feelings. There was a ticking time bomb inside of me, just waiting for the proper moment to burst and ruin everything that I had so longed for. But it was inevitable, just as the sun must rise everyday on Neopia. My fate was already spelled out somewhere in the fabric of time. I was merely a movie of tragedy, playing itself out, the climax steadily approaching.  
  
Being the emotional wreck that I was, one spark was only needed to alight a bonfire of insanity, slowly building piece by piece, seemingly doused in gasoline. That spark came in the form of rejection, as it does for many. My confidence had slowly been built up by being next to her, talking with her. Finally…finally I managed to wrack up the nerve to confess my love. I wanted to do it appropriately of course—something romantic, surprising. Sweep her off her feet, so to speak.  
  
I knew that the moons of Neopia were to be eclipsed by its sun today—a mysterious force, sharing her peculiar beauty. I decided to tell it to her there, as we both planned to go back to Faerieland and watch it, though far away from civilization for my good. The ride there was nominally uneventful in one of the escape pods that she frequently used to travel. She had showed me the commands, so I manned it while she looked out the window, entranced by the space that embraced her. And I had calculated I would replace the space—desire for me first, all else second.  
  
We landed somewhere desolate, but still peaceful and beautiful. The Cirrus' floated about happily, puffing about as little cotton balls. We sat in the fields made of cumulus clouds, away from the rest of the faeries, not knowing of our presence. They themselves had some sort of ceremony for this occasion—yet this was ceremony enough for me, just sitting next to her.  
  
Slowly, the moon in the sky began to give way to a circle of darkness, the light peeking over the edge, desperate to still shine true. My body leaned closer to her—she did not withdraw, whether she was aware of my strengthening company or not. The world was then washed with a shade of crimson, the color of fervor. I reached slowly for her face with my hand, cupping it gently. My hand was awkwardly large for the task, her face being smaller and delicate. Her attention turned to me, away from the natural phenomenon, scarlet eyes meeting mine. My heart thundered in my chest, seeming like it would leap right out. "I…love you," I whispered. The moon became a diamond ring, the last of its rays illuminating the world, and then becoming a solid band of silver.  
  
Our lips met under that sacred half moonlight. I was sure that confirmed it—confirmed the shared emotions that we both held. Although perhaps in size we weren't perfect for each other, myself looming over her like a giant, I believed that it didn't matter—it was destiny.  
  
But then, she pulled away, retreating, shaking her head. "No…" she said softly, her eyes tragic. "Faeries do not love other faeries…I love space…and only that."  
  
Those words killed me at that moment. Dead, to never be brought back. To have such a desire, innocent and pure, turn into an obsession…and the evidence of such started early. The rest of that night was spent silently, even as we returned. My heart was shattered inside my chest, the fragments impossibly small to even attempt to repair. And in slipped a darker shade of gray to my soul, convincing my mind that insane things were righteous. Forever more, the end would justify the means.  
  
It was nighttime it happened. Of course, in space, it is always night—the stars always glitter in the sky, and yet the sun is always out simultaneously. Days are not counted by the sun rising and falling—they are counted by the person living in that vast emptiness, by the days one wakes and falls back asleep. She was asleep then. I wasn't. Feverish burnings were keeping me up—not that of a physical condition, but that of a mental state of mind. My eyes kept wandering towards the door of her quarters—then darting away, ashamed. Pulse rate rapidly rising, lungs needing more oxygen to satisfy their need to supply my blood with…  
  
I don't know how I got in there. The door was locked. She never failed to do that, although I wondered what intruders she would be afraid of. Now I knew. Had I knocked it down? If I had, I have no memory of such an occurrence. Heart racing, my mind spinning and unable to catch up with my body's actions, the leaden weights I described as feet began to move.  
  
I will not go into extreme detail what exactly occurred then and there. The images are burned into my mind eternally, photocopying themselves day after day and posting the horrible memory on the bulletin board of my mind. Perhaps it is this detail that drives me to insanity, the constant reminder of my actions. Vividly, always, are the screams of protest, haunting my dreams at night, cackling demons dressed like faeries dancing about in an odd, hypnotic dance. My body was not my own at that time. It had belonged to another creature, even more vile and revolting than me, but finding purpose, finding life in such an act.  
  
No, I did not attempt to steal her body, to molest her, degrade her to a common whore. I feel as if it came close—if I had somehow become more attached, suddenly floating above my body in a dreamlike, half-state of mind, it would have come to that conclusion. Instead, I found my hands around her neck, thick fingers becoming eight great vices, clamping down on her trachea. In death, she would be free—and then I would free myself as well. It sickens me to the core to reminisce on the horror of the moment: the betrayed yet petrified look in her crimson eyes, staring back into mine, so similar, such resemblance.  
  
At that moment, we were one single entity—I could feel her pain and she could feel mine as well. I could sense my own fingers grasping down on my neck, attempting to cut off my precious supply of oxygen. I was dying, finding my life slipping away with hers. And she? She could finally know what it was to be truly different, what it felt like to have no one to love you, no one to find you worthwhile. She was meaningless—I was meaningless. She was dying—I was dying.  
  
The screams. Oh, what God would allow such screams full of anguish, contempt, a lust that could never be fulfilled and shared? Emotions coursed through both of our bloodstreams, a flood of adrenaline shared between two to unite into a singular organism. This was when whatever remained of my wings just vanished—incinerated, I suppose, by humanity, horrible, horrible dark humanity. Not black, but darker than dark, a shade lighter than that of a black hole.  
  
How she broke away from such a connection will always baffle me, confuse me. The union had seemed to utterly complete—in our deaths, we understood each other. Love was unnecessary—it was assumed. All I can understand was that I was instantly banished, and sudden decision made me break away, stumbling backwards. Fleeing seemed to be the only option then—the Space Faerie still seemed dazed then, perhaps unconscious. It was easy to get away, to run to the escape pod she kept handy. Easier to run than confront her, to explain my nearly lethal actions. So much simpler to run… 


	2. The Road Less Traveled

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
  
And sorry I could not travel both  
  
And be one traveler, long I stood  
  
And looked down one as far as I could  
  
To where it bent in the undergrowth.  
  
Then took the other, as just as fair,  
  
And having perhaps the better claim,  
  
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;  
  
Though as for that the passing there  
  
Had worn them really about the same.  
  
And both that morning equally lay  
  
In leaves no step had trodden black.  
  
Oh, I kept the first for another day!  
  
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,  
  
I doubted if I should ever come back.  
  
I shall be telling this with a sigh  
  
Somewhere ages and ages hence:  
  
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--  
  
I took the one less traveled by,  
  
And that has made all the difference.  
  
-"The Road Less Traveled" Robert Frost  
  
  
  
I escaped through the pod that we had used to return to Faerieland. It did not take me long to determine that I could never return to the Space Faerie's residence or to Faerieland. Just thinking of the two places pained me internally—it was no use coming back to places that only held suffocating memories for me. Instead, I pointed the ship into the unknown, the blackness of space—finally, I would see the stars that I had so desired as a child.  
  
I landed on a planet inhabited by a rather peaceful species, if naïve at best. They called themselves the Grundos, and lacked real speech capabilities. They were still sentient, however, so could not effectively be trusted. Anything that could think for itself was a danger to me—they could form opinions, hatred. It was hazardous to make friends with others—they could only hurt you.  
  
Although I didn't trust them in the least, they were naturally curious little runts. Their planet was colored brightly, as were they. I suppose some of the green colored ones found a resemblance in me, because they wouldn't leave me alone. Attempting to establish a residence of some kind, I decided that it would be best if I promised them something. I considered my options. They were a relatively weak species, lacking in technology or physical advantage. They were gullible and easily convinced of things, partially because they hardly understood a word I said.  
  
And thus began a sudden spark for manipulation. In my despair, I found a sudden need to return the internal injuries that I had taken—to deal oppression and depression to another race, to make them suffer and feel what I had felt for years. I had lost track of how old I was, exactly, though I still felt quite young—all I knew that I had remained at my height of 6' 3" for quite a while now, and was satisfied with it. It gave a certain intimidating air, necessary for the destruction of these naïve little creatures, the Grundos. That was when I decided that a black cape would suit me well—and in fact, it did. It added a certain something to my overall appearance. I needed to dump the person I had been before—to start over fresh.  
  
To start over as a darker shade of gray, invulnerable. I realized my immortality at this phase—before I had merely taken it for granted, being able to live all these years. But these Grundos? They died periodically. I saw many of the elders perish, I saw young ones slip away from sickness. But creating technology to benefit their health was not my concern. My concern was only myself—that whispering voice of self-greed was beginning to turn into a conversationalist, with the voice of a public speaker. I saw their species and did not see a land that was beautiful in itself, only needing a fresh layer of paint—I craved revolution, drastic change, not only in myself but in these Grundos. In my little bungalo, built mostly of the escape pod I had taken, I developed the technology necessary for transformation. I had become a scientist, much to my own surprise. I had a knack for chemistry, for gene alteration. I began to refer to myself as Dr. Frank. And finally, finally I could promise those despicable little leeches something that they lacked.  
  
Power.  
  
Grundos, in their natural state, lacked strength, lacked power. (They also lacked well-functioning brains, but even I have my limitations.) I told them they would be my soldiers for intergalactic combat. Did they understand? I doubted it. But they seemed to accept it, even to become excited about the unknown. I had all the capabilities soon enough, and invited their community to my house. Over the few years I had spent there I managed to construct a much more impressive ship, though it still resembled the escape pod it had been before. Above it, however, I had attached a ray that was my prize possession. The functions were quite simple, as it was primitive at the time, though they would later be modified for more complex tasks. I filed them into one massive line, telling them that I was about to fulfill my promise.  
  
One by one, they became my slaves, my 'soldiers.' They headed towards their doom obliviously, like cows going to a slaughterhouse. It was all too easy—yet just the sensation of being dominant over a species fulfilled some inner fire, much like the one I had possessed in love. But this one…this was much darker, feeding off of something much different. Instantly, I was addicted to it. And I thought of how much pleasure I would get out of destroying what had exactly made me the way I was: those infernal faeries.  
  
But no, I did not attack their precious Faerieland directly. Instead, with a whole fleet of my slaves within my 'escape pod' (which now more thoroughly resembled some kind of miniature space station) descended onto the planet which was still uninhabitable. It could be mine—I had the equipment to make a race out of this horrible man-eating sludge, out of the poisonous vapors that killed all of those pathetic faeries. Why shouldn't I use it? I was like a child with a new toy—any opportunity I had to play with it, I would take.  
  
And for the first time in my life, being different from all of those other faeries was beneficial. The air was composed of primarily toxins below the clouds—yet to me it tasted like sweet honey. It was much better to breathe then that oxygen—in fact, I much preferred the air down there. There was little sunlight, but I could do without light. I even began to prefer the darkness, the constant pea green of the area. I thrived on the planet's surface, or rather under, along with my slaves, as nothing else could—creating, being that God that I had always pondered on. I made pets out of the sludge, more servants out of the slime—my hands were my tools, the organisms of this planet my materials.  
  
Ah, how my little creations worked! It was fascinating, knowing that I reigned supreme over them, whether they knew it or not. I lived underground, out of their sight—it would be improper to show the face of a god. And in fact, I was God, I was the one entity that created, manipulated…killed. There was only me on that planet—no one else. It was like this planet was my universe that I loomed over, constantly watching and changing. And through it all, I found myself softening just slightly, the color of my soul becoming a lighter shade of gray. I found an affinity, a joy in my creations, disgusting to many as they were. They were imperfect, like me. Yet they found the strength to continue, to find a way through the life that had been given to them. That I had given to them.  
  
Does this make me corrupt? Giving life to creatures, to things that formerly had none? To say that I was wrong in committing such deeds is saying your God was wrong in creating you. And perhaps God does make mistakes, for I did—countless times. I remember, occasionally, species after species dying, and then feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach each time. Yet it was not shattering to my heart—that had long ago been broken, and could not be put back together.  
  
And underground, my empire grew as well, with those Grundos as my slaves. They knew I dominated over them—but they were incapable of resisting. They built my lab, they did whatever I commanded. Oh, it was a sweet life—so calming, as long as one did not think how a sentient creature would look at this.  
  
As for the faeries up in Faerieland? If they were concerned, they showed nothing. They probably figured it was merely a disturbance—nothing more. And so they ignored my dealings in creation. I grew food chains, plants, animals…one may have thought everything about them were mutated, but they were alive nonetheless. What right does a person have to say that one thing is hideous while another is extravagant? It all depends on the eye of the beholder, something that I had learned all too well by personal experience.  
  
Just as my life was beginning to get comfortable, liveable again, hundreds of years after I had landed…the apocalypse occurred.  
  
I was out monitoring my species and collecting more things suitable for life forms. I was alone, as always—no Grundos were smart enough to accompany me without crushing millions of plants and animals simultaneously. But that day I did not need a Grundo to mindlessly destroy—something else completed that task.  
  
Out of the clouds of toxic gas shot a beam of light, striking a rock in front of me. Upon that rock sat one of my creatures. I watched it slowly die, an undoubtedly painful demise, unable to do anything to help it. Its flesh melted first, and then everything along with it, making it nothing more than the sludge I had crafted it from…and then nothing, nothing at all. I stared in half shock, half horror. I had seen a lot of terrible things occur in my life—many at my hand. But never before had I seen such a merciless murder, executing something that had done absolutely nothing wrong.  
  
Oh, I suppose many would see this as a triumph: real life was finally being grown! they'll say. They, the ones who write the history, are the ones who do not realize life is life is life. From the smallest, most insignificant worm to the complexity of a human being, everything was created individually, with effort being put into it. Life may take different forms, ugly or pretty, but it all deserves the same chance, the same opportunity to live. Just because something is considered to be inferior does not mean that is has any right to be destroyed. This was the revelation I had come to all too late, as I watched my utopia for misfits, so to speak, melt and vanish before my eyes.  
  
The light hit me as well—but it did not destroy me, as I was not made from the naturally occurring chemicals on the planet's surface. But it burned my skin, so unused to the terrible brilliance of light. I retreated to my lab, bringing up a large screen that I frequently used to view the surface world without disturbing it. While I bandaged the wound on my arm from the light, I watched the destruction of everything, my pets, my entertainment, I had worked so hard to create, things that I had nurtured into life being destructed by that single, infernal beam of light.  
  
I wept.  
  
And then…even as my era died before my very eyes…different life was sprouting. I was quite positive at this time that this was the faerie's way of persecuting me even further, but then…I was not so sure. Plants grew, water appeared…almost a parallel to my little world, but I suppose so many would say that this one was better. Perhaps it was infinitely more pleasing to the eye, but I couldn't help but think that it was somewhat half-baked. In any case, I felt my heart sinking in its shattered state, seeing how rapidly this new life took over my work of hundreds of years, complex ecosystems falling to water and grass.  
  
It was almost all gone in a matter of minutes. Years of work, years of life…destroyed. And what for? Replacements? Still life, genetic details almost exactly the same when one got right down to it, only a few strands of DNA slightly altered to give them a 'pretty' look, so to speak.  
  
Soon after, it was all gone, as if it had never even existed. I could only stare, dumbfounded and struck speechless. And then, the first of the children of those faeries, or whatever had produced the light, appeared. Later, it would be known as a Shoyru, but it, to me, resembled something of a faerie tale I had heard as a child, oh so long ago. It had wings, a long tail and somewhat roundish features, appearing somewhat overfed, what with that bulge in its belly area. A second creature appeared next to it—this one looking like a ball of fur with feet, which would later become a "Jubjub."  
  
And with their appearance, I saw an opportunity. I had the notion to leave as soon as my creatures had disappeared completely—which they had now. But these…though not my creatures…could be a second species of Grundo to me. I took no pleasure in looking at them, and would remain bitter at them for the rest of my life—they only recalled memories of being compared to the true faeries. Yet perhaps they could be changed, to become my new pets…  
  
And thus, I dubbed them Neopets.  
  
You may argue that I was not the one to name them—it was most definitely whomever created them! Maybe the two of us had the same idea—we had lost pets of our own to find solace in another. But it has always struck me as curious why the name I chose for my pets leaked out, spread across the world and became the adopted name for a plethora of different species. Eventually, I changed my term to VirtuPets to differentiate between my 'mutated' pets and the naturally-occurring species to avoid confusion. But that did not happen until much later.  
  
In the meantime, I could not accomplish very much—for I fell very ill, despite my immortality. I wasn't sure where the disease came from, but I can be pretty sure that it came from the sudden exposure to light, for where the light struck, a horrible, spreading rash plagued my arm. In addition to losing all feeling and use of my arm temporarily, I was inflicted with a high fever and, as some of my more intelligent Grundos reported, extreme delirium. This left me bedridden for weeks on end, dazed and confused, yelling and shouting listlessly at people who weren't really there.  
  
And that was precisely when images of the Space Faerie began to return to me.  
  
I had long since succeeded in repressing the memories to the depths of my mind, never to see or hear from them again. I had found love in creation and overpowering others. But now that those loves had been all but exterminated (the Grundos, thankfully, remained), the memories I had worked so hard to forget came back in dreams, in hallucinations.  
  
Yet nothing in the world could convince me that one particular image was false—I knew it was true, I still believe it to be so. She visited me when I was near my deathbed—the peak of my sickness. Some say it was one of my worse and most real delusion, but that was all it was—a delusion. But I refuse to believe their lies.  
  
She came to me in the flesh that night, at the foot of my bed. I was in agony—my head pounded, a manic band crashing around in my brain. I heard a noise outside my door, and then inside of my room. Concerned that there was some kind of rebellion, an unlikely revolution in the Grundos, I struggled to sit up, lifting my eyelids which felt like ten ton weights. Lo and behold, there she was, floating right at the foot of my bed, her crimson eyes glistening with sorrow, pity…sadness.  
  
"You!" I said, meaning to sound surprised, but instead sounding hostile. It was harder to concentrate on proper emotions when one was so close to death.  
  
"You have a right to be angry at me." Her voice sounded distant, as if she were on the other end of the universe. But it was still gentle, not desiring to hurt anyone through speech. "Yet I have reason to be the same…"  
  
"I didn't mean it," I amended, my heart rate quickening from its already furious pace from the light's invasion to my bodily functions. "I didn't mean to be so cruel…I didn't mean to greet you like that. I didn't mean…" The words stuck in my throat. I could not speak nor breathe—the words were literally choking me. I gasped for breath, but found none. I submitted fairly quickly—what was the point of struggling anymore? Death was inevitable for all, even immortals. Falling backwards into the bed, I closed my eyes to succumb peacefully, without a fight.  
  
And then I felt her hand, a breath of fresh air from the heat of the fever. Her fingers gently caressed my skin. She did not discriminate against my rough, green-colored skin that appeared it would spread like a horrible plague. My eyes chanced to open, and were met by hers. I remembered why I had loved her so—and again the need, the want burned within me, an unquenched fire.  
  
"You never returned it," I said, not wanting to say the word love, averting my eyes.  
  
"Faeries love only their element."  
  
"I am a faerie. Do I obsess over my element?"  
  
"You're different."  
  
I did not argue further. I did not see the point. She would never share the feeling that I had for her, no matter how much I desired those cool hands. As her hands moved to across my face, I still could not help but think that maybe, just maybe, there could possibly be a way…  
  
"They killed my world."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And you don't care? Don't care that they'd just go and kill millions of life forms just to create their own?"  
  
"They were ugly."  
  
My eyes snapped to her, and I could be sure that there was fire in them. I did not want to lash out at her, but she had insulted my work. Perhaps they were not as pleasing to the eyes as those horrendous Neopets—but they did not hold any less worth. "How dare you say such a thing," I hissed. "I am ugly, I am hideous, I am a beast. I care not what you say to me. But do not insult my—ARGH!"  
  
She cut me off by opening the bandages that concealed the spreading wound and placing a firm hand on it. I pulled away, an injured animal, guarding my abrasion with my good arm. Still, the damage was done—she had seen it, and now would not leave it alone. "You're hurt."  
  
"What do you care?" I snarled, bristling. "Go back to space. You love it so much." Her eyes flashed, offended by my reaction. Possibly slightly hurt. That was good. It was almost pleasing to hurt her back after all of the pain she had dealt, whether unintentionally or not.  
  
"Please…don't be like that," she begged, and I caught sight of her eyes. Slowly, I lowered my arm for her to tend. Placing her hand back on it, much gentler this time, she spoke again. "Maybe you do have an element, like all faeries. I had always thought you were separated from that—totally different in that retrospect. But maybe…maybe we're more alike than you think. Nobody else shares my element. Your element just very well may be…creating, so to speak. You have such a zeal for those creatures…"  
  
"It's not the same," I admitted, again turning away my face, a certain coldness in my voice. "They are my children…you are my other half…and you have been ripped from me."  
  
The Space Faerie paused from tending my arm, which was beginning to have some feeling in it once again. She seemed ready to say something before she abandoned it all together, shaking her head with a light sigh and turning back to my arm. "You know, you're not safe anymore on this planet. Whomever made those creatures will certainly come after you."  
  
"Then I'll wait for them to come and kill me. What's the point anymore?" I replied, leaning back and closing my eyes.  
  
"Don't talk like that," she snapped, her voice harsh for the first time in her life, seemingly. It quickly reverted to its natural tone, however, not suited to being so violent. "You have a fleet of Grundos you enslaved. Disgusting, really," she spat, obviously displeased. "It makes me wonder why I help you. But you must leave. Preferably never to return."  
  
"You're protecting them from me, aren't you?" My question was followed by a painful silence. I came to my own conclusion. "Fine. I understand the way it is. The way fate has made it. The only thing I could ever feel love for neither wants me nor has any purpose for me, besides as a danger to her precious creatures."  
  
"It's not like that…"  
  
"It's never like 'that,' is it?!" I bellowed, anger clawing at my stomach. I was in the mind to attack her then, just as I had that night. Despair mixed with rage inside of my body. "I'll leave! I'll leave and never come back, because there's nothing here for me anymore! I'll leave because I love you, and would do anything you say. I'LL LEAVE!" It sounded like I was declaring my life, what it had led up to at that point. This had taken all the strength I could muster, and, now exhausted, I sank into the bed, sweat running down my forehead.  
  
And then she broke into a fit of tears, flinging her arms around my neck, her body wracked with the uncontrollable sobs of her weeping. The feeling of being so tenderly close to her numbed my body temporarily, and it was all I could do to exchange the embrace. The closeness of her body was refreshing, her heart beating up against mine.  
  
"It's not my fault," she sobbed, reduced to a state I had never seen her in before. "It's not my fault…when they're in trouble…those creatures…it hurts, it hurts so much…they know about you, too, they hate you…I don't want you to be killed, because…because if they attack you, I'll have to destroy you…"  
  
A revelation. I stroked her hair, made of stars. It was peculiar to comfort another person—yet somewhat comforting in its own sense. The world stood still around me as this happened. For the first time, I truly felt close to her, felt as if I mattered something in her mind. And in her tears, I found a strange joy, budding from a trust of her in me. Maybe I was not loved in the traditional sense—but someone at least cared.  
  
I don't remember her leaving, but she must have. After that, I also must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I lucidly remember is awakening, fever diminished to a mere, far-off throb and temperature and my arm fully functional. My mind fully recalled the incident, and I immediately arranged plans to leave Neopia.  
  
And so, only a week after my recovery, my space ship took off from the now-changed Neopia and into the crystal clear sky—heading towards the enormous emptiness of space, with absolutely no destination… 


	3. Fire and Ice

Author's Note: This chapter is twelve pages long in Word, so I caution you to only read if you have the time. ^^;;  
  
  
  
Some say the world will end in fire  
  
Some say ice.  
  
From what I've tasted from desire,  
  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
  
But if it had to perish twice,  
  
I think I know enough of hate,  
  
To say that for destruction, ice,  
  
Is also great.  
  
And would suffice.  
  
-"Fire and Ice" Robert Frost  
  
Space does something to the soul.  
  
Perhaps it is the expanse of it all, seeing that you are so small and insignificant compared to its grandeur, despite possessing immortality. All I am sure of is that my travels and the lack of any contact with something containing emotions…changed me, altered me. I hadn't been away too long with my first exploit with Grundos which is why, for the most part, I had remained the same.  
  
But this time…it was drastically different. I stayed away much longer, heeding the advice of my love, the Space Faerie. I found refuge on a small, desolate planet, covered in ice. It was uncomfortable to live in, and my slaves and I were quickly forced to migrate when a vicious ice storm wiped out a good deal of my Grundos. I then settled on a planet inhabited by creatures as well, though I cannot remember their name specifically. All I can remember is that the Grundos possessed a naturally-occurring disease that effected the natives to the planet and not the Grundos—and ultimately, accidental genocide happened.  
  
Yet I can't say I didn't find pleasure in seeing a species rot under my hand. Although not directly in my influence, I had brought their doom with me. It gave me a taste of power, so bitterly sweet, and I needed to taste it again. The flavor had not yet developed, but oh how I wanted it. As I continued to stay on that deserted planet, the craving grew increasingly stronger.  
  
And I began 'planet-hopping,' so to speak.  
  
You must realize, people of the Homo sapiens genus, that your evolution took significantly longer than one may commonly think. Most of the planets I visited were simple little creatures—the equivalent of a Lupe pack. (And to be perfectly honest, Lupes are not all that bright.) They were easy to take. Some were harder—requiring highly powered weapons to take them down along with their planet. But every time was no different—I relished in seeing their planets blow up Death Star-esque, seeing them choke and die on their own mucus in their lungs from my Grundos' disease. The more it occurred, the more I went after it.  
  
I destroyed entire galaxies this way. The universe is too massive to conquer—I realized this from the start. But if I could just get that little corner…maybe, maybe I could be recognized for something other than being just some ugly faerie.  
  
That was also around the time I created Neopets Version 2, a computer program somewhat programmed with a sort of "alter ego" of myself so to speak. When I saw how paranoid my personality became when isolated and in digital form, longing for friends so badly that it nearly drove me to true insanity, I found this quite discouraging and put it to the side for the moment. Quite frankly, I had been greatly disturbed at seeing my own self through a different perspective. (Later, the Neopets would find this in the residue of my space station and have quite a field day with it, going so far as to request my help, although I will not mention this event further. Of course, I would never admit that Neopets Version 2, in all rights, was a symbol of myself.)  
  
This was about the time I adopted the last name of Sloth. Traditionally, faeries do not have last names, other than their element. One day, one of the 'smarter' Grundos approached me, attempting to convey his thoughts that we were being awfully slow at destroying a particular species. Sloth-like even. Of course, he was immediately terminated for such a suggestion, but I found it humorous enough. And thus, I became Dr. Frank Sloth.  
  
This conquering, this manipulating…it made me a changed man. (Or faerie, I suppose, would be the proper term.) I began contemplating on the past, a hatred brewing within me, cold yet burning hot at the same time, freezing and melting everything in my touch. I became reserved and 'evil' to the universe, a crime lord, a godfather of an unholy operation. I suppose it was just as well. I don't think planets would've submitted very easily to having a peaceful dictator coming and telling them calmly to hand over their weapons. I forgot the joy of love, true love. My mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone: the power of galaxies.  
  
It never really occurred to me to go back to Neopia—the universe was big enough to accommodate my need for domination. Yet I found myself, over hundreds of years, flocking slowly back to Neopia—and soon was even in the proper galaxy. My presence became stronger as reports of my conquest over neighboring solar systems made their way to Neopia. Soon, I was approaching their planet, completely forgetting who resided over Neopia.  
  
But not for long.  
  
I sensed her almost immediately. Her presence was everywhere in this solar system—like she was the essence of it. It was like being hit by a bucket full of cold water—a sudden, horrible realization of a mistake you made. But it was too late to turn back now. In fact, I was slightly more motivated. She had hurt me so intensely, the memories of that night when I was sick temporarily forgotten, I felt the desire to hurt her back once again—tenfold.  
  
She tried to send me messages through telepathy, but the shield's special layer of gloss blocked her messages. So the better—I might have lost my nerve if they had reached the inner layers of my brain. Besides, it would've been hard to do so anyway—my mini space station was already beginning to orbit Neopia, and I had begun construction on the mutation ray that could morph the cute beasts into more suitable forms.  
  
In order to confuse the simple-minded beasts and their human partners, I had them under the illusion that I was trying to destroy THEM and inhabit their planets with my own creatures, VirtuPets. Whereas, the truth was quite different—those VirtuPets were truly just 'mutants' of some of the common species on Neopia, including the beloved Chia and Kiko.  
  
The plan was to change the native species into creatures that much more resembled the original habitants of the land, created by me. In a way, it was the just thing to do—but I suppose I went a bit far with it. I sent messages down to those Neopets to have them ponder over. I had some things done prematurely, such as sending down Grundo warriors to create an atmosphere of dominance. This failed, however—they were somehow changed back to their natural state. But that will be discussed later.  
  
The Space Faerie, unable to contact me for my constant resistance to any telepathy she had to offer, began to recruit Neopets in a desperate attempt to thwart my plan. In a way, I felt betrayed—I still held a flame for her, in an odd way. Although I tried to deny my core feelings, they were beginning to arise in an inner conflict to two opposing forces within me. I pushed this war aside during the day—but it haunted me at night, where I was unable to guard myself from the Space Faerie's attempts to contact me.  
  
Soon, the Neopets, much to my surprise, became a threat. In space ships presumably constructed by the Space Faerie, they made rather pathetic attempts at the lab ray in construction. Although none succeeded, some did delay my outlaid plans. I came to the conclusion that it was by the Space Faerie's will that they were progressing in the battle against me. And thusly, the source must be eliminated. I had to rid Neopia of the aid of the Space Faerie, whether it be through her death or kidnap.  
  
Ultimately, I decided upon kidnap.  
  
It was not all that difficult, and I suspected that she had something up her sleeve initially, but as it turned out, she had become so upset by the whole ordeal, she had weakened her defense. I merely allowed her send me a telepathic message, and while she wasted her energy doing that, I manned a large mechanical arm aboard a separate ship. Her location was relatively easy to determine through her telepathy, and I merely had to set a course for that region in Neopia's orbit and capture her with a the hand. Of course, she struggled, and I dealt with this accordingly—with a low- setting, I targeted her with a beam of electricity, which sufficiently knocked her out.  
  
Bringing her back to the mother ship, I put her in the Control room temporarily until I could sort things out. Unfortunately, the electricity had not knocked her out for very long, and before long I had a very furious and active Space Faerie within my Control room.  
  
I was in the mind to allow my Grundos to handle it—I needed to focus every brain cell towards my mission. But, invariably, my mind wandered to her poundings on the stainless steel, the telepathy being sent in rapid succession into my mind…and I found myself heading towards the Control room, unescorted, and letting myself slip through the side which the Space Faerie was not drumming on.  
  
Immediately upon closing the door behind me, she spun around. She appeared as some kind of wild animal, cornered and at bay, ready to attack her offender at any moment. I got this illusion from the disarray she was in—hair thrown every which way, red eyes flashing, and her limbs twitching, preparing herself for any kind of attack. I stood still, not daring to approach her in such a wild state of mind.  
  
"Let me out of here!" she shouted, and flung herself at me, attempting to headbutt me into some kind of submission. I hardly flinched—as far as weight and strength went, she would not make a very impressive rugby player. Yet she was persistence, I would give her that, attacking me as if I were someone she did not even know. It was not difficult to hold her off—I merely grabbed hold of her wrist and she seemed to crumple, all will to fight drained. She fell to her knees hopelessly, panting, head down. "You…you spotted-bummed…"  
  
I tightened my grip on her wrist. She cried out in agony, and I could feel her bones shift beneath my hand. I quickly loosened my grip, alarmed at my own ruthlessness. She looked up to me, sweat running down her forehead. "You've…changed…" she commented in a low voice, her eyes looking back to the floor. "This time…more than ever…"  
  
My grip loosened even more substantially, enough for her to pull away and scurry to the other side of the room, watching me as the pigeon watches for the falcon overhead, awaiting its deadly stoop. But I did not take my advantage—instead, I chanced to walk a bit closer to her, my hands held outwards in a gesture of peace. She did not find this anymore convincing that I would not bring harm to her.  
  
"I will not hurt you," I said finally, my gaze never leaving her face.  
  
"You also said you would never return to Neopia. Shows how good you are at keeping promises," she retorted bitterly. That was a slap in the face, but I ignored it. She was angry; she would naturally not be as agreeable as she had been before. "I've been trying to contact you this whole time, not even to tell you to go away…just to ask what you were doing here. I wanted to know because I had missed you…and I thought the rumors, they couldn't possibly be true…all lies…" Her eyes narrowed considerably, her voice becoming hollow. "But they were all the truth, weren't they?"  
  
I paused, feeling a dully painful throb in my chest, perhaps a bit of shame for my actions. Lying wasn't an option here. "Yes, they were," I replied, closing my eyes. "I am not the Frank that you remember."  
  
I noticed she was crying then, silently, and hardly any evidence to display her tears, as she was not breathing hard nor making little whimpering sounds. There were just tears, falling down her face at rapid speed, an endless waterfall. My hand reached out to her, but she shrunk away, fury in those crying eyes.  
  
"Get away from me!" she shrieked, eyes flashing in a furious manner. "Don't you dare touch me, you scum! You predator! How I ever loved you, I'll never know! I hate you! I HATE YOU!" Her voice was filled with loathe, her gentle manner not able to contain such an abhorrence brewing in her soul.  
  
Her words were daggers, sinking into my soul with each new word, leaving multiple injuries that I knew would take an eternity to heal. And it was all revealed, right there—she had loved me, and I had ruined it. Whether it had happened through merely leaving for so long or becoming something 'evil,' I had lost it all, all that I had wanted. I had gained one thing while losing another—and I wasn't truly sure which I wanted more. Yet my subconscious seemed to decide for me, as it would wake me up with horrifyingly real dreams, not allowing me a single minute of sleep. I wanted to cry, to let it out someway and cease bottling it in—but it seemed that my tear glands had forgotten how to release emotional tears. Instead, I was forced to feel the confusion boiling inside, bound to break at any second.  
  
During the middle of the night, suffering from insomnia, I found myself going back to the Control room. I remembered how peaceful she had looked in her sleep—and maybe this state would allow me to sort things out. Slipping through the door that opened only briefly to allow my passage, I spotted her curled up in the corner. She did not look peaceful—she looked disturbed, and continuously shook in her sleep, as if troubled by dreams. Was I partially responsible? I moved closer, my footsteps somewhat sharp on the metal floor.  
  
"No…no…" she moaned in her sleep, her eyebrows going up and down repeatedly. I watched her, standing straight like a tower, looming over her. "No…don't go Frank…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…don't leave…!" I could only pick up snippets of what she was saying, most muffled into her own lips, but I could make out the most of it. So it wasn't a lie. The subconscious did not frequently lie, to my experience. Pieces of my broken heart were beginning to weld back together, despite the impossibility of the situation. Sinking to a squatting position, I placed my hand tenderly on her cheek.  
  
Only to be greeted by the startling warmth of a high fever.  
  
It came to me in a horrible revelation that twisted my stomach into knots. The Grundos! Their terrible plague must have seized her, as she was showing the classic symptoms—quick fever, followed by sudden sleepiness with delirium…followed by death. I had made an antibody, of course—I had frequently used it as a temptation to leaders of infected colonies, only to have the negotiations take so long that their entire population was wiped out by then. If not treated immediately, results were ultimately fatal.  
  
Without a moment's thought, I took her into my arms, cradling her much as a human would hold an infant. Carefully, I exited the control room and headed straight for the laboratory, where some scant Grundos were skill cleaning up. Looks of dull-witted confusion held on their faces as they saw their master holding a captive, appearing seemingly dead. I screamed for them to prepare a bed for her, couldn't they see she was dying from them? They scurried off to prepare my requests.  
  
Placing her gently on a metal table that I had formerly used to experiment on other creatures, I rushed around my laboratory, skimming through all of my labeled chemicals, eyes rushing back and forth desperately. I couldn't remember how quickly it killed—all I remembered that it varied between species. The longest had been for years on end, a slow and painful death. The shortest had been a matter of minutes, simply the Grundo's presence wiping out entire planets in mere days.  
  
Finally, I found the foul-looking chemical. I read the instructions that I had scripted on there, having forgotten them since I had never really used it, except on lab specimens. It would need to be injected into the skin through a main vein to pump throughout the body, relieving the victim in three days maximum. Relief rushed through me, but I knew it was not over yet.  
  
I rushed over to the syringes, and began to fill one with the greenish-yellow colored antidote. Once fully filled, I carefully carried it over to the Space Faerie, lying on her back on the metal table. Already she was exhibiting signs of nearing death—her body was convulsing, seizing, and the wings her back flickered dangerously. Once they disappeared, I knew she would be gone—they were a perfect indicator.  
  
It was difficult to find a proper vein, as her arm kept twitching beneath my grasp. Finally, I resorted to holding it down by sheer force, hoping I wouldn't break any delicate bones in the process. I aimed for the vein in the fold of her arm, sinking the needle into it. She screamed in her sleep, eyes popping open temporarily, wild like an untamed beast. I injected the antidote into her body, and she screamed, trying to wiggle out from underneath my hand, though she failed. Pulling the need out from her skin, I put it to the side and grabbed her firmly, trying to stop her from squirming  
  
.  
  
"It burns!" she screamed, her eyes darting all around the room, and it was quite obvious she was not totally conscious yet. "My body…it's in flames! Water! WATER!!!" She flung herself at me, initially offensive, but her body soon flopped back into stillness, turning into limp spaghetti in my arms. I held her close to my body, her shallow breath bringing life to my ragged flesh, and the answer to my troubles became all too obvious.  
  
And my hatred for those scum Neopets grew. They were tiring her, demanding too much from her fragile composition. I felt a need to do something worse to their foul planet than just merely alter the natives and enslave them. What were they really losing anyway? Their freedom and their vanity. Freedom, as I see it, is at times a necessary thing to be rid of, whereas vanity is completely unnecessary.  
  
I brought her to the room the Grundos prepared, knowing precisely where they would have done so. I dismissed them, allowing them to catch up with a few precious hours of sleep, and then placed the Space Faerie on the bed. She was sleeping somewhat peacefully now, retaining that heavenly pure quality I had seen in her in years past. I found I could not leave her immediately. Something went yet unfulfilled in my heart, and so I took the visitor's seat that the Grundos had so helpfully placed by the bed.  
  
I merely sat there for a while, just relishing in her presence. Finally, I found myself drifting off, and knew that I would need my sleep if I were to accomplish anything. Before I left, still finding that longing, I put my hand on her arm gently, wondering what I was trying to get from this simple gesture. And then I found myself leaning forward and touching my lips against her cooling cheek, and found my heart swelling. Dreams of waking up in the morning next to her restful body entered my mind, unable to be shaken.  
  
I found rest that night, for what seemed like after the longest time.  
  
The next morning she was still sleeping, conserving energy. I was in the mind to think that she was already devising a plan to escape, for even in her sleep she seemed to be getting stronger. I put my monitors onto Neopia—my slaves were still working hard there, though somehow those Neopets had found a way to reverse the mutation and have the Grundos turn back to their natural form. The Neopets welcomed them with open arms, despite their disfigured appearance even when NOT mutated—which was a lot more than one could say about the faeries. Upon seeing this I had second thoughts on the metamorphosis of the Neopets—yet they were still created by the faeries, presumably, and that made their inevitable mutation valid.  
  
The lab would be ready soon, and I was just making the finishing touches on it. Aiming it would be a problem, as I would have to make up for the natural errors of orbit and revolutions around the Neopian sun. But I had programming for that which I had used before, which made it not that much of a problem. The Neopets were in chaos, and their humans mindlessly adopting those Grundos. What were a few slaves, anyway? The things bred like rabbits—I would have replacements soon enough.  
  
The Space Faerie finally did awaken at about noon, a bit dazed from the fever but nothing more. She refused to speak with me, only staring at me. I could not determine whether they were of sorrow or of hatred, but in any case, I could not get anything from her. However, I talked with her, (though it was like talking with a brick wall) telling her about my plan. I was sure she would not be able to escape, so I was confident upon giving the information to her. Whether she heard or not was hard to say. But I figured an apology was in order, no matter how little it would do.  
  
"I…I am sorry for any time in the past where I have hurt you. It is difficult for me to fully express my condolences…I am only a man. Perhaps a faerie, but very little of that origin remains true. I still love you dearly—my feelings have never changed, though perhaps 'discarded' at times, forgotten in altered states of mind. If these were never truly returned…I…understand…"  
  
Those words were so challenging to admit to, and I wanted to hide my face for perpetuity. But thankfully, she wasn't looking at me, so I was able to stand the wrenching feeling to a degree. Finding it was futile to continue, as she did not turn her face to me, I reached over and touched her shoulder compassionately. I could feel her muscles tense underneath my grasp, then loosen to a large extent, seeming almost normal. Her head swung over to look at me, looking at me with a solemn look. I wondered if she could ever find it in herself to love me again, whatever had started it the first time. Was it my leave of absence? 'Distance makes the heart grow fonder…'  
  
I reached into my pocket, remembering something that I had scripted the night before. My heart had been aching as similarly then, and I felt appropriate to show it to her now. I could not bring myself to read it aloud—I wasn't that much of a poet. Instead, I put the crinkled piece of paper next to her on the bed. She looked down at it, and then put her hand over it, guarding it with a fist. She looked up at me, a look that seemed to say to leave her in peace.  
  
I left then, my heart unable to bear the burden of such a look. It followed me out the door and preoccupied my mind. The lab ray seemed to be coming along by itself—soon enough, it would be ready. In fact, the very next day it would. But the next day was not my concern, for it was that full day that she spent in the recovery area which would effect me the most.  
  
It was nighttime, at least on the planet of Neopia. The lab ray's aim was set on Neopia, ready to be fired at any time. However, I had no intentions to do so that night—I had worked the whole day on it nearly without rest. My body was at its limit, and could not be convinced to be pushed any further. Curling up in my bed like some pathetic infant, I closed my eyes, only to be greeted by a multitude of forgotten memories that were just itching to be recalled.  
  
Yet I did not get very far into them before I sensed a life form coming into my room. I was sure I had locked it—but they opened it nonetheless, with a certain ease to boot. I didn't bother getting up—death seemed like a more attractive option in my spent state. The figure crept over, seeming to pause right in front of me. My eyes were open in slits—unable to make out anything besides a humanoid shape. The figure slowly eased itself next to me in the bed, between my two arms and resting its head on my arm. My muscles tensed against an attack—but instead, the figure became calm in my arms.  
  
I opened my eyes fully to see my chin immersed in starry hair, that of the Space Faerie's. She gave a contented sigh in her quick sleep, settling herself in even in her subconscious. I was struck breathless momentarily, my heart seeming to swell to such an enormous size within my chest it obstructed my ability to breathe. I regained it just in time, inhaling a huge gasp of air. She hadn't verbalized it, but I knew—the feeling, for the first joyous time in my redundantly long life, was mutual.  
  
Sleep was restful, once again, with her cradled in my arms.  
  
But the next morning didn't prove to be as soothing as I thought it would be. Instead of finding herself in my arms, I found nothing. I quickly assumed that she had gotten out of bed to go to the bathroom or something of that nature—but then realized that she, being the way she was, would not need to deposit waste from her body in such a manner. Frantically, I sat up in bed, eyes darting around my room. Nowhere was she in my room.  
  
I jumped out of bed, still in just my boxers (which would be an unfortunate sight to any human eyes, possibly lethal) and ran through my space station, eyes not missing a single spot down the metallic hallways and rooms. Grundos who were keeping the place tidy gave me some odd looks, but hastily returned to their business when I gave them a cold look.  
  
I finally came to the exit, panting and puffing, sweat running down my forehead. (When you're an intergalactic criminal, there's really no reason for you to get in shape.) The exit door really didn't lead to outer space—it let to a hangar for ships and escape pods alike, and my heart sank as I neared it. Attached to the door was a slip of paper, and when I was close enough, I ripped it from the door, tearing the tape away from the metal.  
  
It was the little poem that I had given to her earlier. I read it to myself, cringing at my lack in ability concerning poem skills.  
  
A thorn on a rose,  
  
Only makes it complete,  
  
For without that thorn guarding,  
  
The rose lacks replete.  
  
Underneath my primitive scrawl was a much neater, flowing cursive handwriting, clearly that of the Space Faerie's. Who else could have such an elegant style besides my love?  
  
Yet the rose has a duty  
  
To protect others as well.  
  
To guard ones less loved,  
  
If the loved thorn brings them Hell.  
  
She had gone—gone to defend them from me. Ice felt like it had been run through my veins. It was difficult to move. Yet I knew I had a duty as well to attend to—something that I had been planning and couldn't halt now. I could only pray that she wouldn't get in the way, escape just in time with her life in tact. And so all I could find to do was go back to my room and get dressed for another day, the day that Neopia would change in one way or another, whether in appearance or mind.  
  
Once dressed and having a cup of black coffee in my hand to direct my mind towards the extreme bitterness of the drink instead of the absence of my Space Faerie, I took my seat at the controls of the lab ray. All the coordinates were good, and on the large monitor I used to observe the outside, I could see complete pandemonium occurring outside. The space ships the Neopians used were desperately trying to clear away from my ship, and my eyes scanned the area for any sign of my love.  
  
And yes, there she was. Something about her made her look exhausted, spent already from just a few hours exposure to those Neopets. Every so often she gave a look of forlorn in the direction of the lab ray, and I could feel those pieces of my heart I had thought to be mended crashing back to the floor. But my time was here—it was time to finish this, to play my part in this tragedy of life, the untainted super villain, those Neopets not knowing the story beneath, that they, truly, were the ones who caused this heartbreak, this long, sad story.  
  
She was telling them to run, to get away from a space station that they had built themselves. I watched as little escape pods burst into the darkness of space. I could easily shoot them down like fish in a barrel—but I had more important motives. I flipped on the intercom with a reluctant heart, deepening my voice to the intimidating tone that I had frequently used to address the Neopets.  
  
"Do you think you can possibly stop me?" I questioned, looking upon their planet which had once been mine. I exposed the button used to fire the lab ray, the single red button. "One push of this button and you are mine," I proclaimed, and added in a laugh for effect. And then, finger shaking, knowing that if I fired, I would control the plague of the Neopets but would also risk my Space Faerie's life, I pounded down on the button with my index finger.  
  
A bright beam of light burst from the lab ray, with just a touch of red to it. It was on a crash course with the planet of Neopia, ready to destroy the vanity of those filthy Neopets, those who stole my pets away.  
  
The Space Faerie, seeing the beam, suddenly vanished and then reappeared in front of the course of the beam. "I'll stop you, Sloth," she said in a low voice. She too was playing her part of the heroine, destroying the absolute evil in the universe. "I won't let you destroy Neopia!" My heart increased to a cataclysmic beat, seeing her jump in front of that beam. It would destroy her, rip her apart. I wanted to scream, wanted to get that metal claw and pull her back, preventing her from doing such an insanely heroic act. I would see my love die in front of me, and worse, at my hand.  
  
But when the beam struck, she was not obliterated into millions of pieces. Instead, she merely seemed to be hit by a wall, closing her eyes and bracing herself. She screamed, a scream that filled the universe with her agony and pain. I watched in horror, frozen, unable to do anything else but stare. Was it killing her on the inside? If it wasn't, it was still undoubtedly killing me on the inside just to watch her, struggling to stay alive.  
  
I still had a part to play, even with tears threatening at my eyes. My voice shook when I spoke in my sorrow and regret, though I suppose it must have come off as not being able to believe the Space Faerie could stop such a beam. "Wh-what? How can she stop the beam? I'm invincible!" (Oh, how so far from it, for merely my emotions had killed me so far back…)  
  
"YOU WILL NEVER WIN!" she retorted, her body glowing with the light of the beam. She was redirecting it, I knew, aiming it for my space station. Very well—I would rather die than watch her like that, suffering to no avail. I could no longer contain my pain inside, and let out a similar holler, disguising it with a 'no' of imminent destruction. Yet then she opened her eyes, breaking character for just a second. A branch of telepathy stretched out to my mind, speaking much more softly than her verbal speech, and much more brief, much more real.  
  
'Run, love. Run.'  
  
I abandoned my post at the lab ray and ran for the exit, picking up a few of my more valuable Grundos on the way, making sure that I had an equal number of males and females. Loading up the escape pods, we launched them from the space station just in time to see the lab ray and space station explode behind us Death Star-esque, just as so many planet has before.  
  
I myself looked back, straining to see the Space Faerie. The link of telepathy was still open, still available to send messages through, although I would be out of her reach, her galaxy, soon. She was becoming a bright star in the distance, yet she would always retain the most light to me, in my heart.  
  
'I am safe…until next time…I love you.' 


	4. Stars

How countlessly they congregate  
  
O'er our tumultuous snow  
  
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees  
  
When wintry winds do blow!—  
  
As if with keenness for our fate  
  
Our faltering few steps on  
  
To white rest, and a place of rest  
  
Invisible at dawn—  
  
And yet with neither love nor hate  
  
Those stars like some snow-white  
  
Minerva's snow-white marble eyes  
  
Without the gift of sight.  
  
-"Stars" Robert Frost  
  
  
  
That would be the last time I would see my love for months. Or perhaps years? The days are so melted together in space, and it's tricky to keep an accurate count on the risings and fallings of a sun that is hardly ever there. In any case, the time period that passed was significantly shorter than before, by centuries. The Neopians were pretty sure of themselves that I had been destroyed on that fateful day. Oh, how they assume! I was quite alive, thank you very much, and residing on the Grundo planet to give time for my slaves to breed and to produce more through test tubes.  
  
I refrained from annihilating any more planets or their inhabitants in that time period. I was still thoroughly shaken by that close call with the Space Faerie, having almost killed her. I was confident she was getting better, however—as much as those Neopets mindlessly labored her, they probably would not like to see their only defense against intergalactic criminals in shambles.  
  
But I was not done with Neopia.  
  
They still held the precious Space Faerie in her grasps, with her sad crimson eyes, like horrible dragons guarding a castle where a beautiful maiden lived. I needed something that could draw her away from them, stop the intimate connection that had somehow been established between her and that mixed community of Neopets and humans…  
  
And I found it, coincidentally, in the annals of Neopian history.  
  
I had somehow come across a volume of Neopain history, the Lost Desert in particular. I read about a staff that had been utilized centuries ago, sealed away in a tomb. It had absolute power over most everything—however, it had become extremely corrupted, a tool of those with mostly darkened souls. There was also a golden emblem beneath the city of Sakhmet, perhaps already unearthed and possibly in the tower. It was said that the staff would lead the wielder of the staff to the emblem, so I was not concerned to find it independently. Convinced that I could wield it and free the Space Faerie from her curse, I set a course back for Neopia, interested in finding such the relic. I would probably not be questioned for wanting to find it—my motives would most likely be found greedy, for the gold and the power. (I figured there would be some treasure in the tomb besides just the staff. What was wrong with a little cash on the side, anyhow?)  
  
Thus, I arrived back at Neopia, in the Lost Desert. It truly lived up to its name—I landed in a particularly desolate place, and most of my Grundos nearly died from heat stroke or lack of water. However, I managed to reestablish my base beneath the Neopian surface world, or at least parts of it. Nothing too life-supporting, but enough to prevent my Grundos from dying of heat and thirst.  
  
It did not take long before I came into contact with an underground group of Neopian devoted to the game of Cheat. I had watched a championship performed (and won by a pudgy little rascal named Brucey B) from my monitor, which tapped into the radio waves of most Neopian TV stations. I had seen the amulet around Brucey's head—a peculiar, very distinctive golden coin. As I had zoomed in on it, I had discovered that it was a relic of the Lost Desert as well—quite ancient, and possibly useful in my quest to capture the staff. I had nothing against that ugly little penguin-form, (besides the fact that he has a Neopet) yet I felt a need to capture that coin. And that was where that group of underground Neopians came in.  
  
Their leader was a Jetsam, purple in color and with a multitude of rather odd looking scars, probably the result of numerous knife fights. He agreed, for a price, to challenge Brucey to a Cheat match. Naturally, they didn't even play Cheat the right way, which was to Cheat—they cheated in worse ways, if even humanly possible. Cards up the sleeve, intimidation of the worst forms…but I turned a blind eye towards their actions. Where else could I get help from? Nobody honest would help me, and I knew that without even experimenting on my hypothesis.  
  
As the days went by, the Jetsam tempting Brucey B out of his money and his coin, I stayed underground, not daring to show my face to the burning light. Besides, underground I felt protected from the glowing crimson eyes of the Space Faerie, who would undoubtedly try and stop my mission, no matter how gently I approached it. If she wanted slavery to the Neopets, that was her decision to not act upon it—it was my decision to do the opposite.  
  
And for the most part, the Space Faerie did not interfere with my mission. She sent a questioning telepathic message asking what my motive was for returning, sounding somewhat pleased to see me come back, but exhausted nonetheless. I merely replied that I was helping a friend, refraining from telling her that it was more than just a friend, but her, my one love. I told her to not worry about me—I would be just fine, and I would be sure to pay her a visit. She seemed to be satisfied by this, and bid me a nice trip. I somehow doubt other faeries would've done the same—yet this just proves the wonderfully unique quality that my love possesses once again.  
  
Although feeling slightly guilty for tricking her, I knew it was for the best. Soon, she would be free—that one pleasure in life that so little could afford.  
  
With the coin in my hand, I headed for the elusive tomb via my space ship, temporarily abandoning my home in the underworld for the bright surface world, my eyes taking days to adjust to the lighting, although I mainly traveled at night. However, once I had braved the adjustment, things seemed to be going quite smoothly. As I approached the tomb, that Jetsam my associate commander, so to speak, I noticed that the door didn't seem to have any handle, nor any way of being opened besides prying open a seemingly overly heavy door with no handles or cracks for my Grundos to grasp and open. I also found that conventional blasters had no effect whatsoever—if I was to get in, it would have to be some other way.  
  
Frustration began to seep in through the cracks of the unfinished puzzle that was this tomb. I exploded at my troops, at the Jetsam, throwing empty threats at their faces. It surely didn't help that the exposure of sun had made my skin feel like it had been soaked in boiling water. Brimming with irritation from not being able to put the pieces into place, I hurled the coin (quite possibly my only tool to getting in) at the door furiously—and immediately regretted it as I saw it spiraling towards a blank, stone wall, probably spelling its doom in tiny pieces. Yet instead, it slipped into a slot that I hadn't seen before in my blind aggravation. Instantly, the door slid open, revealing a long, dark corridor. My heart leapt. I was one step closer to my goal of the liberation of my love.  
  
Down the maze-like hallways I strode, finding myself quite lost inside in no time. It probably became nighttime very swiftly outside as my slaves and I pioneered the interiors of the pyramid, long since untouched by those who had buried their pharaoh in this glorious grave. Although I was tired, I plodded on, opening door after door with fruitless results…yet finally, finally I came upon what seemed like the fountain of youth, and I Ponce deLeon.  
  
The room positively glittered with gold. Why anyone would want to travel into a nonexistent afterlife with so much currency that would probably be obsolete in their death was completely beyond my understanding. The Jetsam, focused on the treasure laid in front of it, practically dove into the seemingly infinite piles of gold. I was not concerned about what the Jetsam decided to do with all the gold he could grab or sling on his body—my eyes scanned for that staff, one with that horrible face I had seen drawn in a rough hand, with a crooked, lavender tongue.  
  
And there it was, lying among the gold, its eyes glaring at nothing in particular. It seemed ready to attack whenever provoked, and I was cautious in picking it up. Ah, how I remember feeling the darkness streaming from it. It was not human nor faerie—it alone could be completely black, savoring itself. For a moment, I felt detached from the world, strangely free. There was nothing dragging me down, no soul to stop me from setting my goals high to expand my reach throughout the galaxies. A laugh, darker, deeper than possible from my relatively normal vocal chords, surged from my lips, filling the room with darkness. I was merely a channel—the staff was the spirit.  
  
And so when Brucey and his two little cronies came into the golden room and quickly turned tail, I had no trouble trailing after them, utilizing the power of the staff to my will. The punk little Kyrii became a handsome snake whereas the shrieking little Fernypoo suffered the fate of becoming one of my VirtuPets, resembling that of one of my original creatures on Neopia. Brucey, however, escaped with his original species in tact, perhaps minus a few tail feathers.  
  
But as soon as I had administered the harsh punishment to the Kyrii and Fernypoo, I suddenly remembered exactly why I had wanted the relic in the first place. It hadn't been for selfish purposes—I hadn't been looking to hurt anybody. I had wanted the freedom of my love, the Space Faerie, her image flooding my mind. I dropped the relic as if it were burning hot, and clutched at my hand, gasping for breath. My hand seemed darker now, tainted by that horrible piece of history. I didn't want to pick it up again—but I knew I had to wield it somehow.  
  
Slowly, I picked it up again. Again I felt that horribly wonderful rush of power—but I fought back against it, fought back the urge to let it take over my body. It took a considerable amount of my concentration, which made me extremely irritable. The Grundos, being the simple minded fools that they were, were already beginning to pack away the gold onto my ship. The Jetsam, that fool, decked out in golden headdresses and bracelets, demanded his share.  
  
A headache was already brewing in the back of my mind, and sharing was really the last thing that I wanted to do at this point. I retorted that there would be no sharing, my mind slightly groggy and hazy, as if being seen through a thick smoke, and the Jetsam was obviously not pleased. Again, I responded with empty threats, telling him I would rip him open another fine scar. Scooping up a handful of gold with my available hand, I threw it in front of him, telling him to share that anyway he would like.  
  
Ignoring his angry insults that were spewed at my back, I turned to my Grundos, who were just putting away the last remnants of the gold. My gaze turned to Sakhmet City, far in the distance. An extra escape pod was planted as the top stone on one of the obelisks in the city, I knew that for a fact. Somewhere in that city resided the great emblem that I needed to properly control this staff, so that it wouldn't control me—which was an uneasy feeling at best. And even as I merely gazed at the city, the staff at my hand seemed to be gravitating towards the city, a meteor on a set course, unable to be stopped. I did not have the power to resist.  
  
And so, I moved into position on an assault on Sakhmet City.  
  
The Grundo troops seemed to be somewhat happy to be into physical action once again. Armed with blasters, they easily crunched through the stone fort-like wall of inner Sakhmet City. My troops were in the front as I loomed behind, a shadow compared to their action. Yet I had my influence as well, holding that staff with seemingly infinite power, the staff leaning towards its destination, and viciously attacking the town's leaders, chasing her down a hallway until I had her cornered. There she suffered a similar fate as Fernypoo.  
  
The brawling…I soon regained myself, separating my mind from my body and able to look at the situation with a much clearer mind. I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into, or rather, what the staff had gotten me into, but I knew I was way over my head in extremely difficult waters. Whatever had inspired me to launch such a spontaneous, reckless and unplanned war just for a single emblem was clearly not of my reasonably sober mind. My Grundos, no matter how durable they were, simply couldn't stand the numbers of the Neopets en masse. I was fighting a losing battle, and one that didn't seem to really have any purpose at all. Besides, I could control the staff without the emblem—couldn't I? It all seemed so pointless, so terribly futile.  
  
Much like most wars of your modern world.  
  
I had taken shelter in the obelisk which held the escape pod, shaking and clamoring, wondering what the hell I was going to do to fix this mess. Still holding the staff, I dared to peek out the window. Yes, my Grundos were being pummeled—and how I felt sorry for them. I looked to the skies, desiring to catch just a glimpse of a star, a sign of my sweet Space Faerie—but she was absent from the sunny skies. I looked back at my Grundos, a strange affinity for them making my heart weep for their losses. 'Forgive me, whatever God there is, and my love,' I thought, and gripped the staff, preparing the only way I knew to save my Grundos from utter annihilation.  
  
Holding it forth, I began to summon something from the ground—undoubtedly some ancient beast that had not been awaken for years. The monster emerged from a large hole, lifting its deformed arm into the air, the very same color as the ground. Its head appeared to be attached to the rest of its body, and when it had fully escaped its underground prison, it let out a triumphant roar, which was absolutely ear splitting. I cowered back in the high reaches of the obelisk, but I knew I still had a part to play that everyone expected from me. I approached the window and watched the action from above, the tables turning so that my Grundos now had the advantage.  
  
But it was not that way for long.  
  
From the entrance of the city began to pour hundreds of Neopets, seemingly warping in from nowhere just to fight against the Rock Beast that I had formulated. The majority of them were thrown aside like they were nothing more than useless sacks of potatoes, but a handful continued to do battle, bringing out Neopian weapons I could barely imagine. Flaming swords, all different color armors, cannons that shot ice—extremely diverse, and all pummeling into the Rock Beast's body. Its outside defense was visibly, being chipped away. I couldn't honestly say I felt sorry for it, except for perhaps the way its mind worked—it was merely a primitive species, unable to think of anything but to kill and destroy. It was not sentient in any way, shape or form.  
  
And soon, it was all over. The Rock Beast shattered into pieces, reminiscent of my broken heart, and a large cry of victory sounded through the Sakhmet Palace. I knew it didn't have to be over—the beast was ancient, and probably immortal with the staff's aide. I could resurrect it, could breathe life back into its crumbled self. And indeed, I did begin to do such a crime, holding forward the staff to continue the confusion and endless battle of Sakhmet.  
  
Yet something struck through me, shocked me as if I had been a lightning rod and just had received my first jolt of a pure bolt of energy. I nearly dropped the staff once again, but maintained enough of a grasp on it that it did not slip from my fingers. I, however, fell to my knees, gasping for the air that had been knocked out of my lungs. I was deadly positive that it was a sign from the Space Faerie, telling me to stop. Of course, I would've ignored something like that—she was merely protecting beasts that had no right to ask so much of her, to grind her like a lump of cheese against a grater. Yet the revelation that followed I was sure was of my own creation.  
  
On the floor, my face pointing to the stone ground of the obelisk, my head suddenly flooded with the images of the battle below. From what I had observed from up here, I could only see a vague picture of the battle—a few slashes of swords, some clanking of metal against armor. Yet now I found myself in the fray now, one of the warriors, one of my slow and idiotic Grundo soldiers. Around me, my comrades fell and screamed, falling beneath the blows of freezing swords. One lay still on the ground, eyes open and blankly staring at the sky, a Twisted Battle Fork sunken into his chest, blood burbling like boiling water out of the wound.  
  
It was chaos, and through it all, it seemed as if we were shrouded in a veil of darkness. I could hear screams, but through a muffled blanket—I knew there was fear and dying surrounding me like Lupes surrounded a defenseless Chia, yet it all seemed so far off. Perhaps it was because this was merely a vision—or perhaps it was because at that moment, I was blasted from behind by an Ice Cannon, finding myself face-first in the dirt, tasting the foul, dry sand cling to the wet cavities of my mouth. My back felt frozen solid, like the planet of Europa—I could not move, and for the first time in my life, I experienced a feeling of true helplessness.  
  
Immobilized, I only had to wait until whomever had struck me finally showed their face to finish me—and that did not take long. A seemingly weak and tired Kacheek stumbled over to face me, his own fur matted with blood, clinging to his skin like slime. He carried a Rainbow Gun, and with tired eyes, looked down at me. "This is nothing personal," he said, his voice low as he pressed the barrel of the gun against my skull and readying the gun to be fired. There was mud streaking his face with the blood, I noticed, along with tears cried for his friends who had sacrificed themselves for the city of Sakhmet. "But this war must end—the barbarian Sloth must be destroyed…for victory…"  
  
He pulled the trigger.  
  
But before that horridly concentrated beam of a rainbow, a thing of peace turned into a weapon of war, could penetrate my skull and destroy my consciousness, my life, the one thing so cherished yet so taken for granted by people, Neopians and faeries alike, I came back to myself, pulled out of the veiled fantasy and into the world in which I belonged. But one cannot simply throw an experience like that into the back of their mind and continue with a questionable-at-best deed that they had now seen en force. My heart clung to my throat as I realized what I had been inducing.  
  
Before, I had never truly understood war, what it was, and what the heat of battle was like for the valiant soldier. I watched the bloodshed from a safe distance, so as not to even get my shoes dirty. My mind, involved in the politics of the situation, absorbed completely into my own selfish goals, had dismissed the lives of my Grundos and even the Neopet itself. Granted, I had never cared for them before, and still, perhaps, carried an air of apathy towards them. But I had found, amidst a possible hallucination, that they were more conscious and sentient than one could have thought to. Only sentient beings war, of course—what would common birds war for? Food, perhaps, but not a full-blown war, troops attacking one another in a fury of maddeningly planned homicide.  
  
Who was I, one person, to pit thousands of Grundos to their ultimate deaths, to send them into a war that could not be won? And what for? The Space Faerie, ah, her crimson eyes meant the world…but did they mean a genocide? In the past, of course, I had committed such acts without a thought—for meaning purposes, for just the possession of one more planet, a mere trophy on a table of millions. Slaughter of one another, killing each other—for a single emblem, for something so terribly insignificant? What possible cause could validate a war? Freedom? Peace? Ah, the irony! For peace, we must go into a war that will only bring misery.  
  
I was the villain, the cause, the Hitler. Sitting in safety, in my obelisk without a care in the world, waiting for my troops to triumph. Waiting to capture an emblem to release a faerie who did not honestly want to leave, despite the stress the Neopets put her through. A futile cause, all of it. But compared to the torment, the affliction that war caused throughout its worse, was any cause truly worth fighting for?  
  
I wanted out. A simple escape. I could not bear myself—I wanted separation from my body, yet knew that would end in suicide. And I could not kill myself knowing that still the Space Faerie did not rest, an obsession to free her boiling in myself, knocking over the pacifist with utter lust and desire. I would be back—oh, yes, despite the war I hated, despite the blood that dripped from my hands in the minds of those Neopets, I would be back just for my love, if there was still a glimpse of a chance…  
  
Ah, the damned hypocrisy of a sentient mind!  
  
But I could not leave just yet, for I was abruptly interrupted by the entrance of Brucey, a quite untimely entrance. How he figured out I was up here wasn't that hard to figure out (I had been standing in the window), yet I was surprised nonetheless, my mind spinning with all that had happened in a matter of seconds. With a flying leap, that valiant, yet undeniably confused, little penguin-form launched himself at me, knocking the staff from my hands. It fell to the ground once more—but this time, with disastrous results. It cracked on the hard stone floor, dashing all chances in my mind to free the Space Faerie. I bellowed at the fool Bruce, half of me loathing him for destroying the staff, half of me wanting to kiss him and thank him for ridding the world of the cursed object, who merely took back his coin, getting away as quickly as he could.  
  
Knowing that I could do nothing more, I gratefully moved up to the top of the obelisk to escape without having to go back down to the crowds who would most likely murder me in most terrible ways. My other space ship had already been manned away by autopilot, bless its mechanical soul, and with a whole cargo full of Grundos inside, off into space where I could easily track it down and create yet another species to only be murdered in wars. Escaping and leaving things behind was not what I hesitated for—I had already sealed the Grundo's fate down there, and there was little more I could do.  
  
I hesitated, ever so briefly, to give one final look to the clear blue skies, to see if I could possibly see catch the briefest glimpse of a certain faerie in the sky. I was not so fortunate as to do so, and finally gave in to merely pressing the button. The ground shaking under me as the pyramid-like top of the obelisk separated from its secure bottom stone, I watched as the desert ground began to shrink before my very eyes, Grundos that were left behind wordlessly screaming up at me for mercy. Those wretched tears stung at my eyes, and I could not resist them this time—I was hopelessly vulnerable, sinking once again to my knees just to weep, all strength sucked from my muscles.  
  
I could do nothing for them. They would be slaughtered like cows, or become prisoners of war. As I saw it, the Neopets would probably choose the former.  
  
Blue skies gave way to deep blue through eyes glazed in tears, and finally to the familiar and comforting blackness of space. I could almost say I felt at home—yet home was where the heart is, and my heart did not confide in anything but the Space Faerie. She had been knocked from my grasp once again by those Neopets. But I was tired now—tired of trying so hard and yet getting nowhere, tired of failure, tired of war, tired of crying. I closed my eyes as the escape pod drifted off into space, the hypnotic beeps of the autopilot setting its course for the mother ship lulling me into sleep which I secretly hoped was eternal…permanent resting, to wait for my faerie… 


	5. Desert Places

Snow falling and night falling, oh, fast  
  
In a field I looked into going past,  
  
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow  
  
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.  
  
The woods around it have it—it is theirs.  
  
All animals are smothered in their lairs.  
  
I am too absent-spirited to count;  
  
The loneliness includes me unawares.  
  
And lonely as it is, that loneliness  
  
Will be more lonely ere it will be less—  
  
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow  
  
With no expression, nothing to express.  
  
They cannot scare me with their empty spaces  
  
Between stars—on stars where no human race is.  
  
I have it in me so much nearer home  
  
To scare myself with my own desert places.  
  
-"Desert Places" Robert Frost  
  
  
  
It has been a handful of months since I have visited Neopia, coming back for my love. The winter snow has fallen and melted, and it is spring, the imminent season for lovers, for the birds to soar into the air and fly radiantly, displaying flashy colors. I, too, have felt the urge deep within me to return to my love, to try once again, although I know the outcome already. But the time will come when I will, and perhaps be victorious in my quest of freeing her and dashing through the universe with her in my arms. Ah, such sweet fantasies.  
  
And now here I stand, lost in the blankness of space, while simultaneously searching the blankness of my soul. Excuse my handwriting; I can barely hold the pen—it is shaking far too much from the memories that have taken places in these past pages. I am grateful for the reader having gone so far into this tale. Perhaps you are scoffing now, not believing a single word I have written. Very well. You are entitled to your close- mindedness, just as I am entitled to confess the truth here.  
  
I am thinking that you may not believe a word that I have written. It is too bad for you—I am far too spent to try and find you and convince you that it is truth. Besides, you would probably run from me anyhow.  
  
Now, you, the reader, have two options: you may swallow the falsehood that has been adopted by nearly every Neopian, fed from a silver spoon by a press that is so ignorant to the facts that they actually believe the lies that they spin. You may continue to enjoy the games of Splat-A-Sloth, in which you smash a poor rendition of my face with a sledgehammer. (I would prefer you wouldn't.) Your second option is to accept that, yes, there can be good in evil, evil in good—and every creature that can think knows the difference between right and wrong, whether they choose to follow the 'right' or the 'wrong.' You can accept the fact that no human or otherwise sentient being can have a totally blackened soul, can be totally emotionless—even your human dictators, your Hitlers and binLadens, and your mystic people who seemed full of only good, Jesus Christ and Gandhi, are feeling people, created by whatever God you choose to believe in, and are capable of sin yet at the same time capable of prayer and redemption. They are one and all of you—they represent the darker side, perhaps, but inevitably, everyone comes in shades of gray.  
  
I, myself, have only discovered this recently, coming upon this revelation quite slowly, but quite surely. I can no longer deny myself and melt into a super villain, a criminal without a cause, who only lives to conquer. I can love, and I do love, and I can hate, and I do hate. The bitterness and cold of Satan runs in my blood, yet coexists with the burning goodness of God. I am a faerie, immortal, yet different, embodying the human spirit, the spirit of all who can think, learn, feel and react consciously.  
  
I do not believe I can write anymore. My soul has been drained—perhaps I am experiencing true apathy as I sit at this table, wondering why I couldn't have word-processed this. Maybe I will, later, if I decide to send other documents of the truth throughout the universe. But this is highly unlikely as I see it.  
  
And finally, I leave the reader with these last words. You are in charge now of an important delivery. If you are able to do so, please travel to Neopia and give these words to the Space Faerie, if you can find her, in any way that you can, delivered from the heart of Frank Sloth:  
  
I love you, my only. Wait for me.  
  
  
  
-Dr. Frank Sloth 


End file.
